The Sound of a Silent Tongue
by McKate154
Summary: AU Definitely. Another "Snape is still alive" just 'cause I can. Harry has a new muggle life/ couldn't deal with the attention after the "end" of the war. M-just in case I write angrily one day. Not sure if it's slash or just understanding...yet. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine. At all. If it were, the movies wouldn't be as bad as they are. Oh, and the idea for this chapter at least was put into words by my friend, so some of the credit must go to her, though I doubt anyone knows her save for me.

**The Sound of a Silent Tongue**

_I found myself wondering one night what would have happened if Snape had actually been there to warn Harry that he had to die and how would life be now if Harry had fled and Snape was still alive. The basic AU in all its essence, but with my spin on the ideas of many of the wonderful writers on the interweb. Hopefully, this story is different enough not to bore everyone to death. I welcome feedback of any kind. So, all that's left to say is "Have fun."_

Chapter 1 - Hiding

"Who can tell me what kind of symbolism s seen throughout Macbeth?" The English teacher glanced over his not-so-captive audience and sighed for the seventh time that class.

"Come on, guys. We've been over this. Three times to be exact. And that's only counting yesterday. No one?" He asked as he received blank stares from the twenty or so 18 year olds sitting in front of him.

The beginning of the year was always the easiest for Dylan Zimmerman. All he had to do to make the class pay attention was put on that charming smile that showed off his almost straight white teeth. When that stopped mesmerizing his students, Mr. Zimmerman would wink one of his ice-blue eyes and instantly quell all noise and interruption within the classroom. Now, Dylan was forced to return to his boyish habit of flattening down his messy brown hair that seemed to stick up in a different place every day. He couldn't figure it out, but for some reason, even the males in his classes gave Dylan Zimmerman their utmost attention when he messed with this hair.

"How 'bout you, Jimmy? No? I'll give you a hint: It's red, we all have it, we all need it, and it moves oxygen around our bodies."

"I dont' know, Mr. Zimmerman." A boy in the back with dirty blond hair answered shyly.

"Come on! Think about it. It carries oxy-put your hand down, Sarah-oxygen through the body. It's r-e-d. It's what come out when you cut yourself." Dylan exasperated as he drew out every word in the sentence.

"I still don't know, dude."

"Oh, for the love of--Someone answer or you'll all write out Acts I-V for homework every night 'til you find the answer."

"Blood, Mr. Zimmerman. And clothing that doesn't fit, and the appearance of things in threes."

"Thank you, Aaron."

A bell rang in the distance as Mr. Zimmerman began to assign the night's homework.

"For tomorrow, guys, I want examples of the symbolism that Aaron so kindly told us about."

"What if we didn't hear him?"

"Then I suggest you go on SparkNotes, Mr. Cardonis!" Dylan yelled after the boy who was already halfway down the hall as he sat down behind the small desk.

As he sat down, Dylan noticed a piece of paper, nay--parchment, on top of copies of handouts for his next class. He set the note aside before he read the folded yellow paper and started to compile his handouts.

The students finished trickling in for the next class as Mr. Zimmerman placed the last handout on a desks. He walked to the front of his room where the podium lay and called the class to attention.

"We'll be using the laptops today, people. So, with some semblance of order, go and get them from the cart in the back of the room. There's a handout on each of your desks."

Dylan Zimmerman received blank stares from his class of freshman. He was not known to let the underclassmen use the computers.

"Go on, then. Scoot!"

The students scrambled to get their laptops, eager to explore the internet with their newfound almost-freedom. Mr. Zimmerman waited ten minutes until he heard Youtube in the round before adding:

"Oh, yeah. It's a test. And you only have today to finish." Dylan smirked as the class groaned collectively. He never thought he'd love making a student's life so miserable, just like--That particular train of thought made Dylan remember the odd parchment left on his desk.

He shuffled around a few skewn papers before finding the note. As he held it in his hands, he had an odd feeling he knew whom it was from, but Dylan hadn't spoken to the man in almost seven years. He hadn't spoken to him since that night...

Brought out of his reverie by an excited student - _He probably found out that all the answers were actually on the test. _- Dylan flipped over the parchment. On the back, or was it the front, were two words written in unmistakable handwriting.

"Stop hiding."

_'Stop hiding?' What's that supposed to mean?_

_'I've got to find the Bloody Baron. I need to find where Voldemort's Horcrux is! Now, where could--'_

_"Hey! Get off me!" The boy screamed as he was pulled violently to the side and into an empty classroom. "What's your problem? Let go of--bloody hell." The boy's face fell as he realized whom he was standing face to face with: the next worst person to Voldemort._

_"Will you be quiet?!" A hushed whisper was spat harshly at the young man. All that was visible of his attacker was a shiny Death Eater Mask and billowing dark robes, but judging from the boy's change in stance and his fearful expression, the boy knew exactly who had grabbed him._

_"If you're going to kill me," he said with an out-of-place sneer, "Then you should get it over with. I'm in a bit of a --"_

_The other man stifled the younger's speech by covering the boy's mouth with his hand. The boy, beginning to struggle was pushed bodily against the now locked door of the blackened room._

_"I told you to shut up, Potter." The man breathed. "Now, as long as we're standing here, how about I let you in on a little secret? You-must-die."_

_"Excuse me?" The muffled response was almost unintelligible from behind the large hand._

_"You heard me, Potter. You have to die, and the Dark Lord has to be the one to kill you."_

_"Well, thanks, Professor! I'll keep that in mind if I run into any murderous Death Eaters. Oh...wait."_

_"That's enough, boy! We--I don't have time for your idiocy. I don't have time to explain other than that Dumbledore made me--"_

_"Don't." The voice was extremely low. Too low for Harry Potter. "Don't you dare speak his name, Snape."_

_"What?" The word was as much a threat as it was a question. The look on Snape's face would have killed Harry Potter if possible, but the Boy Who Lived continued._

_"How can you even think about him after what you did?"_

_"I did nothing, Potter."_

_"Really? Because I always thought cursing someone off a tower was doing something, _sir. _I thought it was murder." Potter's eyes were slits of glowing light now, his stance clearly in attack mode._

_"This, Potter, is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion."_

_"I think it's a perfect time, _sir_. Neither of us are likely to make it to the morning, after all. So, why don't you tell me why? Power? Glory? Fa--"_

_The resounding slap was so loud, Harry could have sworn it was heard on the battlefield outside. He stared up at his most hated professor with glimmering malice._

_"Don't talk about what you don't understand!"_

_"What don't I understand?! I was there! I saw it happen!" _

_"You have no _idea_ what you saw that night!" Snape growled through his clenched teeth as he held steadfast to Harry's jaw. "We don't have time for this! Snape screamed as he drew his wand, but he seemed to think better of his plan and put the magical wood away._

_"Did you recover the final Horcrux?" The boy stared. "Did you get it, Potter?"_

_"N-No." Harry, bewildered by the sudden change to an unexpected subject, stammered out his answer._

_"You only have twenty-three minutes, Potter! Where is it"!_

_"I don't know."_

_"What do you mean you don't know?" Snape took a step back from the boy._

_"I was on my way to the Bloody Baron, but then someone sidetracked me."_

_"The Bloody Baron." Snape deadpanned._

_"Yeah. Something Sir Nicholas said about Ravenclaw's Diadem and--"_

_"Where is the rest of your--fanclub?"_

_"They're searching the--why?"_

_'Use those coins Granger created and tell them all to look for it in the Room of Requirement."_

_"I can go." Harry started for the door, but Snape grabbed his arm._

_"Tell them to destroy it as soon as they find it."_

_Harry Potter hesitated._

_"Now! We have to leave!"_

_"Where? And what do you mean 'We'?"_

_"To Voldemort! Do try to keep up, and I mean that _I _am taking _you_ to him. Forcefully."_

_"Are you kidding?" Harry almost laughed out loud. Almost._

_"No." Snape, Harry Potter realized, was completely serious._

_" I have to die? I have to die...Voldemort-I don't understa-oh. You mean I'm the last-oh...I have to die..." Harry sagged to against the wall as the information was finally processed. _

_"If this is your usual thought process, I think I've finally understand why you failed my class. --Get up, Potter."_

_"I just need a few more minutes!" Harry said desperately. "I have to find-"_

_"Potter!"_

_Harry looked up, his face filled with an odd mix of trepidation, despair and triumph._

_"Stop hiding, Harry."_

Another bell in the distance brought Dylan back to the present. It was time to collect the tests.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you absolutely positive you're all right?"

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"Dylan..."

"I'm fine, I promise. Now, go along and do something nurse-ish. I'm sure there's a sick kid walking the halls somewhere."

"Oh, all right, but if you pass out again-"

"I didn't pass out."

"Sure, you didn't. But if it happens again, call me straight away."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"Yes, mom. Can I get back to my class now?"

"If you're absolutely certain."

Dylan walked the school's head nurse to the door of his classroom and the shut the door even before she finished the last of her lecture. For some reason, he was unnaturally annoyed with the presence of the nurse. Normally, Mr. Zimmerman welcomed any opportunity to talk with the pleasant woman. Dylan supposed the feeling was just a remnant of the annoyance he felt during the flashback he had just experienced.

"Okay," he told his class, " back to the test."

"But we only have a half-hour left!" The class collectively groaned as their teacher sat back down behind his desk.

"So suggest you get on with it, then! Hurry Up! I'm not going to give you extra time."

As the class reluctantly got to work finishing the test, Dylan forced himself to think about the strange flashback the he had just had. He could only vaguely remember what was going on when the particular...memory...had taken place. Strange also was how he had known the parchment had come from the man called Snape in his memory, but Dylan had not known exactly what was meant by "stop hiding." Who was Snape? And why did he turn up in a flashback? Speaking of flashbacks, why did he have one in the first place? And why was he speaking in that ridiculous British accent?

"Mr. Zimmerman?"

"What?" Dylan almost jumped at the voice. He apparently zoned out again.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Lauren. Finish your test."

"I did. We all did, actually, and we still have five minutes before class ends."

"Oh, well, then...get something out to do until the bell rings." Dylan stood up from his desk and walked to his podium to take roll before the class let out. Lauren and the other students, however, stared fixedly at their teacher.

"Can I help you?" Dylan asked, looking up. "You guys haven't given me this much attention since I told you I went sky-diving with Ms. Crosley."

"She is _so _hot." Came a voice from the back.

"Thank you, Mark. Now, seriously, stop staring. It's creepy."

"Mr. Zimmerman?"

"Yes, Ashley?"

"Why did you pass out?"

"Because I didn't."

"That's not really a reason at all."

"Sure it is, Ryan. And I didn't pass out."

"It looked like you did."

"But I didn't, and that's what counts."

"So, what happened, then?"

"I had a...flashback."

"Of what?"

"The bell ringing yesterday." As he finished, a bell rang loudly in the hallway. "Ooo, what perfecting timing! This is when you all left and I got to sit down in silence!"

"But Mr. Zimmerman?!" Whined a few members of his class. "We want to know what happened."

"Use your imagination. And while you're at it, go to Chemistry."

"But..."

"Go. I'm not giving you a late pass again."

"Fine."

Dylan sat down as the last student made his way out of the classroom. Dylan had a free period for the next forty-five minutes and he planned to use it wisely. Hopefully, he would find some answers to his questions about the flashback.

"Ah-hem."

Or not.

"Can I help you?" Dylan asked without looking up from the piece of parchment on his desk.

"I think so." Came a deep voice.

"Really?" Dylan deadpanned. "Are you going to tell me what you need, or am I going to have to read your mind?"

"Oh, I doubt you could read my mind, Mr. Zimmerman. You never did have much mental strength."

"Excuse me?" Dylan started as he looked up. He was caught off guard, though, when he saw the man that was standing there.

"You!"

"Yes, me. Who did you think sent you that note?"

"So, _you're_ the man from my flashback?!"

"What flashback? And I'm sure if it was me, then you wouldn't have questioned my identity."

"What do you mean?" Dylan stood from his chair and took a few steps toward the other man, their eyes locked in a silent argument of their own.

"I know I had a mask on, Po- Mr. Zimmerman, but how many other Death Eaters would have told you to 'Stop hiding?' Especially at that point in the war."

"So it was real then, the flashback? Wait-what war? And how do you know what it was about?"

"It was real, and I know what it was about because unlike you, I actually have a brain, and what do you mean 'What war?' The war against the Dark Lord!" The man looked seriously worried as he realized exactly what the young man opposite him was saying. How could he not remember?

Dylan stared at the man dressed all in black, including a black cloak of some kind, and tried to make sense of everything. He was just about to ask another question when the neighboring teacher walked into the classroom.

"Dylan, do you have a copy of-oh. You're busy. Do you want me to come back?"

"Uh...no. What did you need?" He asked, never taking his eyes off the other man.

"I need a copy of the Discovery Channel's version of Macbeth. Do you have one?"

Um...let me look. I think I do." Dylan went off into his cabinets to search for the movie as the other teacher glanced curiously at the stranger.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Bobby Sloane. I also teach English here." The man stuck out his hand, trying to be friendly.

"I won't be staying long enough to need an introduction, I assure you."

"Bit rude, don't you think Dylan?"

"What? Who?" Dylan asked, clearly distracted by his search.

"These British folk." He answered pretending the other man was no longer in the room. "They come to the states and demand the utmost respect and when you try to be nice, they stick their noses up at us 'Yankees.'"

"It could also be said, _sir_," the stranger stated disapprovingly as he turned from Dylan to Bobby, " that not knocking before entering an occupied room can be, how did you say it, _rude._"

The two stared at one another, neither backing down, until the man in black took Bobby's hand and gripped it tightly.

"Severus Snape." He said and shook the man's hand quickly. He then turned back to Dylan. "I can see you are busy. Something that's obviously new for you...so I'll leave you to it. If you want to stop hiding, you know how to find me." And with that, Snape was out the door.

"No, I don't actually." Dylan stated as he turned around. "I don't even-" Dylan ran and pulled open the door only to fin the hallway empty.

"What was that about?" asked a very confused Bobby.

"I have no idea. I found the movie, though." Dylan answered as he handed a DVD to the other teacher.


End file.
